


The Girl with his Eyes

by Greeneyesthickthighs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father-Daughter Relationship, Other, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1870179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greeneyesthickthighs/pseuds/Greeneyesthickthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will see them both die for this, if he has to rip her heart out, or burn her alive he will.<br/>He will kill her for the memory of the girl with his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl with his Eyes

Stannis Baratheon was never a man of affection, not in his youth and not now. He has often brushed aside the warm gestures of others, ignored the affection of friends and family alike, because Robert has never once hugged him, and Renly has been taught not to. But when his five-year old daughter throws her chubby arms around him, he can't exactly shake her off, can he? Instead, he awkwardly cradles her in his arms, squeezing like his mother used to do.

"Ouch, papa, you're hugging me too hard!" This is Shireen's muffled response; apparently his embrace was a poor copy of his mothers. She squirms until he loosens his hold enough that she can grasp him tighter. She squeezes him with her desired pressure and settles into his arms once more, expecting him to comply. He swallows his discomfort and attempts to recreate it, privately enjoying the weight of her in his arms, the press of her face against his stomach. "That's better Papa.”

...

"Vile-"

"No Shireen," Stannis is grinding his teeth again "It's not Vile-yria, it's Vel-lyria."

"Vul-" She tries again, running a tiny finger over the troubling word. She only needs one look at her father`s face to know she's saying it wrong again. "Vile-" A sharp sigh cuts her off and unwanted tears fill her eyes, running down her cheeks before she can stop them. She's only seven, she can't help it when her father is never here and she’s messing up the only time she’s spent with him in over a year. Stannis is stricken, staring at the crying child in front of him with rising panic. He has no idea how to deal with crying people, not to mention his crying daughter. He is tempted to call Selyse, but unwilling to embarrass his daughter. So he settles with the way he knows best, strict composure. "No, Shireen. Try again. Remember your lessons."

Her dark brow scrunched together as she focuses. "Val-Valyria." Something almost like a smile twists his lips, and pride swells in his chest. "Well done, continue.”

...

"Why are you leaving father?" Stannis starts and whirls around, not expecting his daughter to be out of bed so early in the morning. "How did you get out of your bed. Where is Maester Cressen?"

Shireen stares back defiantly, looking all the world like Renly. "I'm faster now father, Maester Cressen is no match for me. Why are you leaving?"

He sighs. "I have to go, Shireen. It is my duty. Your Uncle Robert has appointed me Master of Ships, and I am obligated to go." She pouts, and he is about to reprimand her but she replies before he can.

"I understand father. We must do our duty." He nods, and watches with surprise when his daughter, walks with a straight back and a high chin back to the castle, where he can see an exasperated Maester waiting for her with his hands on his hips.

No, he thinks. It is not Renly she resembles. It is me.

...

Stannis remembers his feelings vividly when Shireen caught Greyscale. He blamed Robert at first. Dragonstone had perfect conditions - damp, unclean, cold - to harbour such an illness. The Maester shakes his head, telling him there is nothing more he can do, and something tightens in his throat. He can barely speak to excuse himself, leaving a confused wife and a knowing Maester. His daughter is only six months old, a babe. He has only had her a few short months, this babe who could have been called Cassana but instead is called Shireen, and already he could lose her.

Selyse had been near hysterical that she wasn't a boy, but Stannis had not been worried, assured by his wife and his maester that boys would likely follow. They would have a boy, but for now they had a girl. A girl with his eyes who almost dies in his arms. He had long since given up on the gods, but that night he almost knelt in prayer for the sake of his fragile little daughter.

...

Stannis remembers his feelings vividly when Shireen caught greyscale, he remembers the panic, the anger, the helplessness. He promised himself he would never feel like that again, and has taken the necessary steps to leave Shireen out of his plans to take the Iron Throne. Yet here he is, feeling that way again. But this time it's worse, far worse. It claws at his stomach, fills his mouth, burns his eyes and pounds inside his head.

The Red woman is screaming about her god, and his retribution and the power in Kings Blood. What did the witch think, that he'd thank her for this? For the death of his his daughter – his Shireen, his baby, his princess, his girl - the royal blood needed after Edric Storm vanished and the feelings stir inside him like a lightning storm, disgusted by his hysteric wife who assures him their child will be cared for the One True God as he casts her out of his rooms and onto the chopping block, nodding to a stoic Davos.

He will see them both die for this, if he has to rip her heart out, or burn her alive he will.

He will kill her for the memory of the girl with his eyes.

_(He will wonder later if this is how Robert felt about Lyanna Stark. If losing the person who was your everything was the source of his problems, the cause of his vices, if his foolish elder brother ever felt this anguish, the ache. If perhaps the same loneliness afflicted Renly when both his brothers left and took with them all the servants he had grown up with, alone at Storms End and without those who he was so familiar with. If the absence of their voice, the emptiness in the air without their body pressed against his made him want to die. He will regret the feelings of hatred for Robert - somewhat - and curse the day he killed his little brother.)_


End file.
